


How To Go To A Funeral And Not Murder The Guests

by maggiemerc



Series: How To Process Plane Crashes And Other Catastrophic Events [3]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Pathos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggiemerc/pseuds/maggiemerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’re angry and depressed and scared and alone how do you go to a funeral. And how do you make it though the whole thing without throat punching well wishing grievers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Go To A Funeral And Not Murder The Guests

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea that Arizona is depressed and righteously angry and wanted to explore that mindset. So please don’t get mad that things aren’t tender and people aren’t expressing love in super overt ways. This is Rage!Arizona y’all.

Her wife stood in the doorway staring passive aggressively at her for two minutes. She knew because she counted. She counted because it was the only way to keep from doing something—saying something else.

Finally Callie exhaled loudly, “Fine. We’re going.”

She slammed the bedroom door and a few minutes later the front door slammed and Arizona stopped counting. She sighed and closed her eyes and waited. Waited for Callie to come back in and make demands. Waited for the phone to ring and her parents to be on the other end assuring her they were on their way to thump her into shape. Waited for someone to do more than walk away.

Nothing happened.

She rolled over and looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky and it was bright. She always thought it was supposed to rain during funerals and it never did. It was always sunny and gorgeous. She had no doubt that if she went outside the air would have a crisp bite to it and it be cool in the shade and warm in the sun.

The world wasn’t logical and didn’t move as expected. So there was no rain on the day they buried Tim. No rain the day she heard about Nick. No rain the day they put Sofia’s father in the ground. Just cloudless skies and happy lives being lived off in the distance.

She wanted to skip the funeral. The idea of having Callie help her out of the car and feeling all those stupid people looking at her churned up bile in her stomach. She couldn’t stand the sight of people. Anyone. She couldn’t even watch TV without her misanthropic streak flaring up like a bad infection.

But she hopped her way to her closet full of pairs of shoes and skirts and dresses and pulled out black slacks and a navy blue blouse.

Because this was Mark. She’d lost two brothers and here went the third she’d found and she was damned if she was going to let every asshole in the world keep her from paying her respects.

Putting the pants on wasn’t hard but the empty leg made her nauseous. She should have pinned it. That was the normal course of action. You rolled the leg up and pinned it in place. But the legs of the pants she’d chosen were blowzy and loose so she tied it in a knot that hung limply just below her stump and would probably sway with every move she made.

She skipped out on make up and settled for big sunglasses. Her hair was too filthy for to be seen even in her most miserable state so she covered it in a silk scarf that combined with the glasses no doubt made her look like some widow.

She felt like one sometimes. Sitting in her bedroom surrounded by a life she’d once lived.

Getting out of the apartment was harder than she’d expected. Her movement since coming home had been limited to two hops to the closet door and three to the bathroom. She usually didn’t even need the crutches so she wasn’t used to moving on them.

She’d sprained her ankle in tenth grade and been on crutches for two weeks. There was a rhythm to moving in them and a way the whole body compensated. With only one leg and not even a knee to help balance herself she kept over judging how far to swing her lower body and stumbling. Tired reflexes that had once belonged to a surgeon on Heelys kept her from outright falling, but her movement from the bedroom to the front door was awkward, embarrassing and very nearly sent her back to bed.

“Take care of our girls.”

It was only his voice chiding her that kept her moving. To the garage where the parking space she shared with Callie was empty. But she had Mark’s keys. Before everything he’d loaned them to her so she could buy brisket on sale. Then Nick’s surgery had gone terribly and she’d forgotten and he’d told her as they boarded the plane that if she wanted his car so badly she should just buy it from him.

Getting up into his SUV required almost more upper body strength then she had and when she’d finally crawled in and sat down and got her crutches in she had to pause again.

She was always pausing. Trying to catch a breath and trying to calm down everything inside that wanted to scramble out of her.

It was worse when she shut the door and the whole car smelled like Mark.

Arizona had never even **liked** Mark. She’d tolerated him in her life and dreaded the mornings she’d find him in her kitchen and the holidays she’d find him at her table.

But him being gone hurt. It was physically painful. Like someone sitting on her chest. And she knew it was because she cared. And she knew it was because she closed her eyes and was being thrown through the air and skidding across the forest floor. And she knew that it was more then him just being gone.

But knowing why didn’t change the anything. 

She twisted the key and the engine turned over and though her left foot was gone her right knew exactly what to do. Gas. Brake. Gas. Brake.

It was familiarity she’d thought she’d lost.

She was late to the burial though. 

A memorial was going to be held that night with lots of alcohol she couldn’t drink and filled with lots of people she didn’t want to see. But memorials didn’t matter. Memorials were for putting on a brave face and acting like you cared and talking about happy memories like it might make things better.

The burial was where the grieving happened. Where it began and ended. And Mark’s plot was filled with people who’d made their way across green grass to stand in front of a hole in the ground and watch a coffin dip beneath the earth.

She wanted to get out and make her way up the hill and stand by the wife she hated and the daughter she loved and put it all to rest. But she also wanted to point out how hypocritical they all were and how worthless. How they’d soon forget Mark like they forgot everyone who died and how they’d move on and she’d be stuck with one leg and a daughter she never could have imagined.

How dare they all stand there looking sad. They weren’t there. They’d never been there.

She…she hadn’t been there.

All she wanted to do was get out of the car and climb a hill.

But she couldn’t do.

Images of her crutches slipping in the grass and her stump striking the ground painfully ran through her head. She could see, clearly, everyone watching. Grieving her like they did Mark. She was dead too after all. Taken in the crash as swiftly as Lexie. All that was left was a God damned shell who couldn’t pin her pants and couldn’t get out of the car and couldn’t keep her leg.

But she could at least **try** to get out of the car and stand at the bottom of the hill right? She could make an effort.

She reached for the crutches that she’d jammed into the passenger seat. They weren’t as easy to get out as they’d been going in. She tugged and one jerked free and struck her mouth.

It stung like a slap and she shoved it back with a scream and then, because there was nowhere else to go—no way to escape—she slammed her hand against the wheel. It stung like her mouth and the horn bleated loudly.

And now she could feel the stares. The people on the hill wondering who the asshole in a dead man’s car was honking while they grieved. And she could feel Callie up there. The wife who couldn’t save her leg but could sure as hell be embarrassed and mad up there with their daughter.

The pain in her chest was back but she knew what it was this time. She was gonna cry. It was crawling up her chest into her neck and headed straight for her eyes. Tears. She’d cried so much she thought her tear ducts had scarred over. But nope. There they were again. 

God damned tears. For what?

She fell against the wheel and didn’t care if it honked or if they saw her crying or judged her some more. Let them come down for their precipice and offer condolences, sad eyes and a hand. She’d beat them with that stupid crutch and show them what kind of invalid she was.

 

####

Someone to Callie’s left started to make a move down the hill to check on Arizona. The whole damned funeral heard the honking horn and most of the people there knew the car. It was an easy leap to figure out who was inside.

She didn’t know why Arizona was honking. To what? Let her know she was there and should feel guilty? Or did she just accidentally honk and was now hiding in shame?

Aaaand it was Alex, moving through the crowd. She hoped he’d look at her so she could warn him not to go. Because all he’d do was embarrass Arizona further and then get yelled at. He didn’t need that.

He looked at her as he moved past. For permission. She didn’t grant it and he surreptitiously fell back into the group.

Sofia, wearing the white tights she apparently hated more than life itself, was fidgeting and wanting to be carried. She didn’t know why they were all standing around being somber. She knew her mama was spending her days being cranky in her room and her daddy wasn’t around but she was too young to grasp the scale of devastation that had been wrought down on her little head.

Callie picked her up and placed her on her hip where she could rest her head on Callie’s shoulder and make faces at Zola who was in Meredith’s arms directly behind them. She’d graciously let Addison stand next to Derek in the front.

She was nicer than Callie. If Arizona had made it up the hill she would have made her stand next to her no matter what and she would have used one of her wife’s crutches on anyone who tried to argue with her.

The priest, asked there on Callie’s insistence, asked for someone to speak. Derek went first.

 

####

Callie got home first. Even though Arizona never got out of the car and never went to the memorial service at Derek and Meredith’s. 

She had to admit it was weird coming home. Usually the house was dark and cold and stale feeling except for the dim light peering out from beneath their bedroom door.

But the house was brightly lit and the door to their bedroom was open and though Callie knew she and Sofia were alone she felt a surge of…hope at the sight. Like maybe her wife was coming back instead of whatever the plane crash had left her with.

But the lights were on and the door was open because Arizona had apparently made a hasty exit. There was also a bra in the middle of the living room and the couch was pushed off the carpet and the week’s worth of newspapers that had been on it were scattered on the floor.

“Messy,” Sofia opined.

She kissed her daughter’s head, “You said it.”

They ate dinner and she cleaned up while Sofia played and then she put her daughter to bed and didn’t cry when Sofia asked where her other parents were.

And Arizona still wasn’t back. She checked her phone and there was no messages. Then she rang her wife and it went to voicemail.

 

####

After the funeral Arizona drove all the way to the water and stayed in the car and watched the ships roll past. She fell asleep with the car on and when she woke up she winced. Not because she was stiff. A month of bed rest had her used to the aches of immobility.

She’d missed the memorial…that she hadn’t planned on going to.

And dinner. Callie always made dinner and put it on the bed and looked at her with a hang dog expression waiting for her to absolve her of her part in the farce that was her amputation. 

She stopped for fast food on the way home and then had to stop again to throw up when the grease hit her stomach. She could see the lights of her apartment from the street and the nauseous feeling in her stomach remained as she noted the rooms were all brightly lit.

It didn’t get much better when she got inside.

 

####

She actually had the gall to limp her way past Callie like she hadn’t disappeared for four hours. Had the gall to freeze Callie out like it was just another day in this little play they were acting.

“No,” she growled when Arizona was halfway to the bedroom and hadn’t even acknowledged her. “No.”

Arizona carefully turned on her crutches and stared. 

“You’re gone for four hours and you’re just gonna waltz back in here—“

“Cute,” Arizona said frigidly, “Really. Got any more puns up your sleeve Callie?”

Callie wasn’t going to get into that. Not right now while she was fired up and Sofia was hopefully deep into REM sleep. “No. You don’t get to play that card when you disappear for four hours and don’t answer your phone.”

“I’m going to bed.” Arizona turned again.

But Callie caught up to her easily enough. She didn’t jerk her around. That would make it worse for both of them. But she held her firmly enough that she couldn’t walk away and she couldn’t fall.

“You’re not the only one who lives here despite what you think and you don’t get to just come and go as you please.”

“Actually I do Callie. I get to do whatever I want.” She pulled herself out of Callie’s grip and turned to face her. “I don’t have a job, I don’t have a leg, but I can go for a drive and eat fast food and do whatever the hell I want.”

“No, you don’t.” She stepped close and saw how white Arizona’s knuckles were as she gripped her crutches. “You asked me to marry you and I said yes.” Arizona looked away. “So you gave up the right to throw away you life three years ago.”

It was like Arizona had smelled something bad. She looked up sharply, “You think I’m throwing away my life,” she asked accusingly. 

“I think I’m done watching you try.”

 

####

Arizona sat in her little chair and took her first shower in four days. Her hair didn’t really want to come out of the bun she’d put it in and her leg was covered in hair. Even her stump needed a shave. She wasn’t up to it and just sat under the water before using half a bottle of shampoo to get a lather in her hair.

She pulled on a sweatshirt and shorts and came out of the bathroom to find the sheets changed and Callie sitting on her side of the bed reading. A glass of water sat next to Arizona’s side.

Callie didn’t look up as Arizona hobbled over and let her crutches fall to the ground. She didn’t pull back the sheets or help tuck her in or offer to get her anything.

It was…unnerving. Arizona pulled one of the pillows out from behind Callie’s back and propped her stump onto it before pulling the sheets up to her chest.

Callie had slept in the bed with her a few times. But she was always in bed when Arizona was asleep and gone before she was awake. The only note of her presence was the state of her half of the bed and the indentation in the mattress. 

She closed her eyes and tried to push Callie out of her head. It worked for a few minutes. She didn’t yell and Callie didn’t say a word. 

Then the lights went out and the bed shifted as Callie got comfortable.

“Arizona.”

If she kept her eyes closed maybe her wife would go away. Maybe she’d be left to her misery.

“I miss you.”

Callie’s words tempered the festering rage just a hair.

And when Arizona woke up in the morning her wife was still there.


End file.
